Something to Shock the System

Three poems
by Sheikha A.
 
Bland
 
days sputter and hiss extinguish mounting
humps of ambitious, fanciful thoughts aching,
sacking and rolling about in flatulent oblivions
furling inside the face of the forlorn moon. I gaze
at the waning rim of its wobbling structure
sloping to spill contents viscous. Silvery hands
sprinkle dream-dust upon insomniac tossing
across stationary acres of rampant whims
through the large and long night, I spurt
beneath crumbling crags, dimming comforts
waxing reflections as I glow by you.
 
Take me out of my head
 
I can’t start my sentences
in the creative
way a Monday begins
 
I don’t know how to
interestingly intertwine a foggy
December to a spring’s unexpected
vapour
 
I am weary
 
the thesaurus with its gardens
isn’t bringing me any newer fruit
 
the words in my head need a vacuum shock
 
my loss of miniscule-observatory
reflexes boggle my magnified-
indifference control
 
my life has abandoned occurrences
that should incite bombastic poetry
 
all I go through anymore, as called
life, is a murder, plunder, terrorism
 
and sometimes, maybe sometimes
to stir things up a bit
 
a man holding a gun to my head
upon a ground being hit by
earthquake.
 
Aging Backwards
 
There was definitely more hair
on our heads back then,
 
though back then isn’t too long ago
from how far away we’ve come,
 
obsessions were simpler,
crushes obtainable, love was
a thing written about in songs,
 
idealised and understood
it were between mums and dads
with children,
 
and the definition was one
of forever, where the word was
used with naïve devotion,
 
and understood like an eternity
that would never live through
early arrived mid-life crises,
 
reflecting was a chapter
in literature books, the theory
rote never to be applied,
 
and the only blues we knew
were in expressions of singers
and movie stars,
 
it’s been a long way away now,
eternity has been lived to the point
of rigid threadbare,
 
now is the past we try to sustain
for reliving the future decided then
 
hoping time to have remained
unchanged the day we break free
to go back to where we started.
 
 
—————–
Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Over 300 of her poems have been published in a variety of literary venues, both print and online, including several anthologies by different presses. More about her can be accessed on her blog sheikha82.wordpress.com
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Published by

17numa

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, and books can be found. He is a Best of the Net and three-time Pushcart Prize nominee. Scott's poetry books include: Songs of a Dissident (Transcendent Zero Press, 2015), Chaos Songs (Weasel Press, 2016), Happy Hour Hallelujah (CTU Publishing, 2016), and Poison in Paradise (Alien Buddha Press, 2017). Scott is a member of The Southern Collective Experience; he also serves as an editor for Walking Is Still Honest Press, The Blue Mountain Review, The Peregrine Muse, and Novelmasters.

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